Devotion
by P.T. Tucker
Summary: Wilson had told him to just piss his pants if he needed to go that badly. He hadn't expected Wesley to actually do it. [Some minor Fiskley feels]


**AN:** Warning for maybe watersports? It's really more of Wesley just pissing himself.

"I need these apartments purchased by the end of the day," Wilson said, pointing to a block on his map. "Cost isn't an issue."

Wesley's eyes ran over the paper – a double-check of the street names, Wilson recognized – before the man nodded. "Yes, sir." He didn't make note of it, but so far Wesley had proven his memory reliable, so Wilson turned his attention to the next map.

Wilson tossed the overly-large paper onto the floor to reveal a schematic underneath. He noted how Wesley pursed his lips at the liter, but the man didn't complain. He never complained, not even to his fellow employees when he thought Wilson wasn't listening. It was beginning to worry Wilson a little, if he was honest. People who held everything inside tended to explode when the emotions were finally released. He would know.

The schematic was for a building right in the heart of Hell's Kitchen. One that housed the filth of his beloved city - drug addicted savages willing to do anything to score their next hit. He had allowed the disease to fester there for some time, hoping that the people working at the center could help return those sad people to their former selves. Unfortunately, he'd proven optimistic about the change they could bring about. Instead of the informal recovery center it tried to be, it was a place people specifically went to get high: shoot up in the street and then have a safe, warm bed to ride it out. Normally Wilson would let it go, as his business required such people to thrive, but he couldn't allow danger to lurk a mere two blocks from the home of his old math teacher. She had always been kind to him.

Better yet, it was a good test for his new assistant. Though the man had proven beyond reproach so far – enough that he had risen through their upper ranks at a record-setting pace – Wilson knew there were things required in their line of work that could test a man's limits. There would be women and children and innocent people who just wanted to help in this building. It was unfortunate, but necessary.

"This property has been upsetting me for some time. Take care of it."

The blank mask on Wesley's face didn't shift in the slightest. "Any particular preference as to how I should go about that?"

"Leave nothing behind."

Wesley's expression did change then. A small, twisted smile curled his lips for a moment before it was gone again. Amusement. Perhaps a hint of wryness? His eyes told Wilson that he knew exactly what his employer was doing.

"May I take some men or would you prefer I handed this personally?" Wesley asked.

"Use whatever is at our disposal." This task didn't hold the same importance as the apartment complex purchase, so Wilson didn't specify a timeframe. Wesley had never failed to prioritize the assignments given to him in a satisfactory manner.

Wilson flipped to the next paper, this time sliding it underneath the stack. He caught Wesley's smile out of the corner of his eye and couldn't help a little smile himself. He leaned away from the paper, giving Welsey the chance to look at it properly.

The man ran his eyes over it briefly before turning back to Wilson. "Sir, before we begin, may I be excused for a few minutes?"

Wilson resisted the urge to look at the map. This one highlighted Madame Gao's primary areas of operation, and while that made it the most damning of the papers present, it was hardly information Wesley couldn't have acquired by other means. Still, Wilson had hardly gotten to where he was now by being foolish. Wesley had never attempted to interrupt their planning sessions before, and Wilson was a man that considered anything outside the ordinary suspicious.

"Why?" He studied his assistant.

Wesley let out a huff of a laugh that didn't reach his eyes. "This is a tad embarrassing-" Wilson doubted that. "-but I need to use the restroom."

"You need to use the restroom. Right now." Wilson didn't need to elaborate on his disbelief.

"I've had to for a while now. I thought I could hold it until you were finished, but it appears I was mistaken." Wesley's expression shifted into a combination of apologetic and self-mocking. Wilson normally appreciated his acting skills. When they weren't being used on him.

"I'm afraid you'll have to wait," Wilson said, watching Wesley for signs of violence or escape now that he knew Wilson wasn't going to fall for whatever he was trying to pull.

Wesley tried neither. "I'm sorry, sir, but I can't."

"Then you'll just have to piss yourself." Wilson didn't normally curse – his mother disapproved – but he felt that it got his point across nicely.

Wesley paused to fasten the top button of his jacket, and Wilson recognized it for the attempt at regaining composure that it was. "Of course, sir. Forgive me for interrupting."

Wilson eyed him for a moment longer before nodding and turning back to the map. He pointed out the two areas around the active sites that Madame Gao had requested help in acquiring. Wesley nodded at the appropriate times and made occasional comments when necessary. Wilson's earlier suspicion was almost forgotten when the sharp stench of urine hit him.

Disbelief almost overwhelmed him as he watched the wet stain nestled to the left of Wesley's zipper spread across the front of his pants. An ever-widening trail flowed down his leg and into his shoe, with a few tenacious drops actually managing to hit the floor. Wesley's face didn't change as the piss continued to come and come, until a sizable pool had managed to form at his feet and the left leg of his pants was soaked.

"Forgive me, sir. You were saying?" Wesley asked, and with anyone else Wilson might have thought the words infuriating – a "gotcha" that he didn't appreciate – but, looking at Wesley, he realized the polite interest _wasn't_ act. If anything, his moments of emotion were acts, while this completely blank look, this utterly unfazed mask that said Wesley only had attention for him, was the truth.

Wilson felt something stir within him that he was hesitant to name.

"I didn't expect you to actually…" He trailed off. "Piss yourself" suddenly sounded so vulgar when standing in the wake of Wesley's dedication.

"I see." The momentary flash of uncertainty that crossed Wesley's features was real. Wilson was certain of it. "A misunderstanding, then. I'm sorry. It won't happen again." He drew his hands together in front of him, and it was a protective gesture, but not because of the piss, because he'd misconstrued Wilson's words.

The feeling inside Wilson grew stronger.

"No, it's my fault. I should have-" seen your utter devotion before now "-been more clear. Please, feel free to use the restroom." Wilson indicated the hallway that led to one of his home's many bathrooms. He realized how it sounded when Wesley not-so-subtly glanced at the urine on the floor. "To clean yourself up, I mean. I'll tell Eli to bring you another suit."

"No need to trouble yourself, sir. I'm certain I can get most of it off with water." And then walk around looking like he'd pissed himself. On Wilson's command.

Wilson turned away as he realized why he'd been unable to name his feeling earlier. It was because it was multiple feelings wrapped up into one, and one part of that indescribable whole was at least one emotion that was entirely inappropriate when it came to one's subordinates. Especially subordinates as…obedient as Wesley.

"It's the least I can do. Please, go." He waved at the hallway again. "I'll call Eli."

"Yes, sir."

"You don't-" He looked back at Wesley, and then had to look away again as he caught sight of the stain. He fiddled with his cufflinks as he stared down at the map. "You don't have to say 'sir' every time. Some informality is permitted." He looked up through his eyelashes to see how Wesley responded.

Wesley opened his mouth, but then changed his mind and gave him a smiling nod instead. This smile lacked both his customary smugness and his wry amusement. It wasn't even one of his annoyed, yet still feigning civility smiles. He just looked…happy.

"You're very…" Wilson started before he could stop himself. Wesley waited patiently for him to find the right word. "…devoted. I appreciate that."

Wesley's smiled widened. "I know." Then he seemed to get himself under control as he dialed back the cheerfulness. "If I may be blunt, I like to consider myself a very dedicated individual, when I find those I feel are worthy of my dedication. And while this should go without saying, if there's anything you need from me, anything at all, please let me know. I will be more than happy to serve you in _any_ way that I can."

Wilson's heart felt as if it was beating three times the normal speed. "I may have to take you up on your offer sometime. Thank you, Wesley." This relationship of theirs was going to be interesting.


End file.
